


Breathless

by thatsweetchantryboy



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Being Anders, F/M, Ficlet, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Sex, Sex Magic, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsweetchantryboy/pseuds/thatsweetchantryboy
Summary: Anders promised to come to Hawke's room. He does. Breathe, Hawke. It's just magic.





	Breathless

“This will be the rule I most cherish breaking.”

 

A sharp inhale. Breath. Less. Ander’s lips are warm, softer than she’d imagined. Breaking into her thoughts. Breath. Less. Breathe. Sigh.  _ Sigh. _

 

Hawke meets him, fingers intertwined, head tilted back. He is warm, safe. Kisses in flurries, slow. Gentle. Tugging at clothing. Clumsy, kisses, kneeling. Don’t stop now.

 

“Hawke?”

 

Eyes open. Lips parted. “Yes?” 

 

“It’s… It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. I thought this part of my life was over. I’d like to… I’d like to show you….” His voice trails off, a trace of blue upon his flesh. 

 

Breath catching. Slowly, breathe. Breath. Less. 

 

_ “Open yourself to me, darling.” _

 

She heard that in a dream, once. Her and Anders. In the fade. A torrid thing, all heat and longing. Never finding the right moment, never touching, never. It had seemed… So real. So far away. So long ago. Had she been so closed off?

 

Breath catches in her throat and Hawke has never been so willing. Her lips, more rough than his, her hands, deeply stained red, found him in a moment. Hands in blonde hair. Gentle caress. Darkness. Eyes open. Breathe. 

 

It takes more than a few moments for her finery to fall away. More than a few moments for her to be overcome with self consciousness, the chill of the night air on her skin, pin pricking at the sensation, the overwhelming paleness of her flesh. A desire to hide. A desire to press herself against him. To become one. Justice had the right idea. Spirits intertwined. That was love, right? That was… something.

 

Breathe, she tells herself. Breathe. This is the man she loves. This is the night she had dreamt about. Adoration, with absolute certainty. Breathe.

 

This is what she wants.

 

The coal-hot fingertips. Pressed into her back. She sighs, suddenly pulled back to Thedas from elsewhere, the blue light, More a glow. Soft, like his lips, still on her mouth. Warm. And burning.

 

And suddenly cold. 

 

Her body reels. The changes, sudden, the warmth pressing into her skin, ice in her veins from fear and night air and who knew what else. Magic and love and… And this. All together. Breathe.

 

“Maker’s breath…” she hisses.

 

Eyes open. She holds his face.

 

“Anders…” she whispers. Breathless. Breathe. In, out. Sighs as his fingers crept slowly lower, hooking around her smallclothes.

 

“My love?”

 

“Do you-,” she is interrupted by the sensation of heat once again. Fire and ice. It sends chills up her spine, forcing her to bury herself closer to his chest- still not bare, she noticed. Gooseflesh, her body singing with desire.  _ Touch me. Maker, please. _

 

“Do you…” She trails off. Unsure. Breathe. Breathe.

 

Anders gazes into her, brings his lips to her forehead, to her cheeks, to her nose and neck and collarbones and finally, near her ears. 

 

“I love you.”

 

With that, he works her smalls down.

 

Breathe. Breathe.

 

“Close your eyes. I want to show you why mages are feared… Why we are adored. I want to show you, my love. Open yourself to me, darling.”

 

Eyes closed. Lashes against her face, held in arms far stronger than she’d expected. Darkness falls, aching thighs part, and Anders… Anders moving, Hands caressing, hot, hot, coal-hot. And ice. Sighs. Hawke bites her lip, bites hard. A metallic taste, sharp inhale. Hard. Harder.  _ Harder.  _ Anders smiling into her neck, listening to her mews. She rocks under him, his hands on her, touching, circling, caressing, teasing, pushing, whispering, her mouth parted, head back, and slowly building. Slowly, slowly,  _ slowly.  _  Rigid spine, hips tilt upward, mews turn to gasps. 

 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

 

“Are you ready, my love? Are you ready for me?” She feels him against her.

 

Hawke’s eyes open. Ragged breathing. She pulls at his robes, finds the clasps with shaking hands. 

 

“Now,” she whispers. “Please.  _ Please.”  _

 

“Breathe,” he says. “You’ll be breathless soon enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, these two. Hopefully the first of several at least.


End file.
